


Worse Than a Motel 6

by spiralsystem



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint POV, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Where Was Clint Barton During Captain America 2?, WinterHawk Big Bang, accompanying fanart, oh no there was only one bed, road trip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralsystem/pseuds/spiralsystem
Summary: Nat and Clint are assigned to take down the remaining Hydra bases on the outskirts of civilization, the ones that the others clearly don't have time for. Oh well, road trip for Clint!Until Nat, Clint, and the one person Clint Really wanted to avoid, run into each other at the shadiest motel Clint has ever seen.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91
Collections: Winterhawk Big Bang 2020





	Worse Than a Motel 6

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for Worse Than a Motel 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603677) by [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe). 



> Holy moly! Winterhawk big bang!  
> So the reason I haven't been posting a lot is because I've been working on this. Though in general I've kind of moved out of Marvel as a fandom, I still have a lot of love for Clint barton (and winterhawk).  
> So this isn't Explicitly winterhawk but its definitely.... the beginnings of it?  
> Thank you SO SO SO MUCH to @harishe-art on tumblr who did an accompanying piece to this, linked in related works!!

The air in Clint's lungs burns like the fire that rages not 20 feet from them. The explosive charges went off with no issue, thank god for that, but now he's got to lug his heavy-ass bow back to their rendezvous point with oh, only around 200 Hydra soldiers on his tail. The fire climbs the warehouse higher and higher, and the air around them starts to fill with a thick smog. 

Clint can see the getaway car from here, and he can see Nat in all her calm and collected glory staring at him. He thinks she might have revved the engine in an attempt to say "get a fucking move on, Clint, there are 200 Hydra soldiers after you," like he wasn't already aware, but he thinks one of his hearing aids fell out while he was running, so he can't account for it. 

Hydra is gaining on him, but he's made it to the car (a very nice,  _ definitely  _ stolen red convertible) and tosses both himself and his bow in the back seat. Nat takes off squealing in a cloud of dust, and the Hydra dudes (who by now have definitely realized that the engines in all their vehicles have been blown to smithereens) trail behind them on foot. The longer they drive the more they look like ants in the distance. 

Only when they can't see the rising trail of smoke in the distance does Clint let himself relax a little bit. He finally sits up in the seat properly, not even daring to move lest he get shot by a sniper they left behind, adrenaline and panic making him freeze in place. He climbs up to the front seat and plops himself down beside Nat. 

"You good?" She asks, but he can only hear her through one ear and it's fizzle-y and awful and definitely broken, so he yanks it out and chucks it in the back seat next to his quiver. He gives her a thumbs up anyway, and she gives him one in return. 

A few hours of quiet driving later, Clint is about ready to lose his damn mind if he has to deal with more silence and corn fields. 

_ Close to exit?  _ Clint signs at Nat, and she nods. She was right on the money, as a sign for Port Greenburn rapidly closes in on them. Nat changes lanes to pull off, and Clint breathes a sigh of relief. He hates long car rides when his aids are busted. Can't even listen to the damn radio, and his phone is dead anyway. This car doesn't have a charging port, not like the last one. Couldn't have found a more modern car, Nat? Well, it's not like he'll complain that much about the sun on his face, honestly. He just wishes he had a game. 

The motel is exactly as shitty as you'd expect it to be. It's some locally owned place, no Motel 6 or anything, and Clint's pretty sure he would take a Motel 6 over this. The receptionist lady is nice enough, but the whole place smells like cigarettes and skunks, and it's enough to make Clint gag a little upon entering. Nat noticeably doesn't react, and honestly fuck her. How could anyone  _ not  _ react? 

They're lucky to get a room, at least, Nat says; and Clint specifically avoids making a comment on how it's probably the only room, considering how decrepit this place is. 

It's probably not that bad, and he's making a big deal out of nothing, but dammit, 6 hours of mind numbing silence in a car will make you a little grumpy. 

The room is gross. Clint's 90% sure there's bedbugs, and he wouldn't be surprised if that discoloured patch on the ceiling is mold. There's only one bed, and he thinks the sheets were originally white, once upon a time. A small television sits atop a pitiful stand, and that's the rest of the furniture in the room. 

He goes to grab their stuff out of the car, and Nat grabs the holo-caller for the weekly Fury check-in. He hates participating in these anyway, because he just gets drilled on stuff he barely remembers in the adrenaline-fueled chase of things. He's lucky enough to have an excuse this time to avoid at least hearing the ex-director, though. Fury's face flashes up in a blue and white haze, flickering in and out precariously before the holo-caller finds its balance. He can see his mouth moving, but Clint's lip reading is precarious at best, and the shitty quality of the generation 2 holo-caller is absolutely no help. 

Nat finishes her own debrief 2 minutes later, and turns to Clint. 

_ Can you tell me what happened?  _ She signs, and Clint makes a face where Fury can't see him. 

_ Snuck in, set up the charges, got out, set  _ off  _ the charges, ran like hell.  _ He shrugs,  _ took out a few Hydra guys along the way.  _

Nat gives him the neutral face of disappointment, so he makes another face back at her, but doesn't elaborate. She knows what the plan was, and for once in his damn life, it actually went off without a hitch. Nat was their getaway, his backup, and the original infiltrator to gather info on what the place looked like, how many guys they had, that sort of thing. The actual espionage part of their espionage mission.

He only kind of pays attention when he sees Nat mouth "Clint ____ hearing_____ though_____" and can fill in the rest. He scowls at the back of her head, because now he knows Fury is going to have replacements dropped to him by the morning. 

It would be nice to have them, but he doesn't want anything from Fury of all people right now. Not when the man sent him off on an intel mission a level 4 could do in their sleep while  _ The Fucking Winter Soldier  _ of all myths and legends ravaged hell on his hometown. He can keep the damn aids, it's not like he doesn't have other ways of communication with one of the only two people out in the middle of nowhere. 

Eventually, she ends the call, and signs that his aids will be here in the morning, like he thought. He sighs, knowing he's going to appreciate them anyway, even if they were sent by Fury. 

In the meantime, he changes into whatever sweatpants he has in lieu of pajamas (they've been on the road for weeks now. He's going to bring sweats, dammit.) and crashes right onto the bed like he's never laid down in his life, despite spending the better part of the afternoon in a car.

He knows Nat will be up for a few more hours at least, so he doesn't bother to wait up for her and falls asleep right there, still splayed out on top of all the sheets. 

There's a dog, he thinks. A dog, and a tree, and maybe Kate is there. Dreams are never a sure thing and always a little fuzzy. He's been lucky to dream anything good of late anyway. 

He's dreaming, it's good, and the next minute, he's lying on his back on the gross hotel room floor. His head hurts, his eyes are still blurry, and he's got even less comprehensive thought than normal. There's a person above him, long, dark hair and a body big enough to take up Clint's entire field of vision, and there's a moment where his brain just goes  _ oh no he's hot _ in Squidward's voice, and he takes half a second to chide himself for watching too much Sponge-bob in his free time. 

And just like that, the stranger is gone and Clint takes the new motor freedom to sit up and look around squinting through the dark. The stranger and Nat have moved towards the door, fighting a vicious hand to hand battle that Clint takes a minute to register is even happening. 

He rubs his eyes, and  _ then  _ it clicks. 

There's a stranger in their hotel room, fighting Nat. 

And he rudely interrupted Clint's very nice dream, but that's probably a secondary issue right now. 

He takes a minute to gather his wits and his shirt, and goes to work on hauling the guy away from Nat, grabbing his shoulders and using the element of surprise to toss him backwards towards the bathroom that definitely has mold in it. The other guy stumbles backwards, catching himself on the edge of the television stand. Clint dodges the next punch and trades places with Nat in a smooth dance they've done before. Clint yanks the door open and races to the car to grab his bow and quiver, because yeah, he can fight hand to hand but Nat seems to have that covered. If she can draw him out of the hotel room, then he can finish this fight in an instant. 

Except, his plan for the assailant falls out from under him when Nat doesn't bring the fight outside. In fact, he's holding at full draw for about a minute, his arms are starting to burn now, but Nat's not coming outside. Half of him worries that Nat's been bested by this handsome stranger, but the other half of him tells him that no, Nat's probably been able to finish him off by herself and she doesn't even need Clint's half asleep help. He keeps his bow ready to fire and moves back towards the door, still open. 

Nat and the stranger aren't even fighting any more. They're both sitting on the bed, talking. 

Wait, Talking? 

Clint enters the room instead of just hovering in the doorway, purposefully ignoring how his arms protest, and aims the arrow right at the stranger's throat. Then he sees the glint of metal and the red star as the assailant takes off his jacket, not noticing Clint hovering in the doorway. Or if he did notice, he gave no indication that he saw Clint. Clint's eyes go wide, because that arm is recognizable almost anywhere. It's bad enough that they had a break in while Clint was sleeping, it was worse that they had a break in while his aids were busted. And somehow, to pile on another bad thing onto the shitstorm sundae, it was the fucking Winter Soldier that broke into their shitty motel in the middle of nowhere. 

Nat sees him, though, and signs for him to put the bow down. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her, but she signs their sign that essentially means "trust me" but in essence is so much more than that. His traitorous pop culture mind compares it to the 100 push ups promise of Brooklyn 99. 

He lets his arm relax, arrow de-notching and sliding back up the string. The Winter Soldier finally turns to look at him, and he's just as intimidating as Sam had described him. The raccoon eye shadow apparently does wonders for this man's confidence. Clint should try it some time. Clint puts the bow not very delicately down on the TV stand, nerves still shot at being woken up with a near concussion, and shakily signs to Nat.

_ What's he doing here? _

She signs back,  _ He's on the run.  _

Well no shit he's on the run, he's the world's most wanted assassin. 

Nat seems to read his mind, continuing;  _ He's not an assassin anymore.  _

That's not really what Clint wanted to hear, but he isn't sure what he expected. He knows people who know people that this guy has killed, and he's not too keen on getting involved himself. Can't they just dump him on the side of the road and head towards the next hydra base? Although if breaking into the world's shittiest motel at - Clint glances at the clock on the wall - 3 am tells him anything, it's that this guy is probably not feeling on top of the world right now. Nat and the Soldier have gone back to talking, but Clint is no good at lip reading at the best of times, never mind in the dark, and his head is still ringing from almost being brained by the tin man. 

God, now is when he would really appreciate those spare hearing aids, Fury. 

He wonders vaguely if the motel manager lady was woken up by all the commotion they caused. 

Clint's watching Nat through this conversation he can't follow, because quite honestly there's not a lot else to do. He's not very keen on letting his guard down just yet, so he'll take to standing for now. 

Eventually, the talking seems to petre out and Nat motions at Clint, so he gets the hint to watch for signs. 

_ He was brainwashed by Hydra. Very long story short, he broke out of his programming, and is on the run now. He wants to take down Hydra, just like us.  _

Clint's eye twitches slightly at the "brainwashed by Hydra bit".  _ So how did he find us?  _

Nat snorts, and Clint almost does too after she signs  _ by complete accident.  _

_ So he was just going to break into a random motel room for the night and it just happened to be ours?  _ Clint signs dubiously. He's not sure whether he wants to say that he's lying, or believe that fate is just that cruel. 

_ Pretty much.  _ Nat responds, and Clint, not for the first time, wishes he was asleep instead. 

In fact, he's going to make that a reality as soon as possible. 

_ Right. Ok. Yes. This isn't weird at all. I'm going back to sleep and we'll sort this out in the morning when my hearing aids arrive.  _

Nat looks at him, sighs, and oh man, Clint knows that look. 

_ How good are you at 3 am stitches?  _

Clint wants to knock his head against the wall. That seems like a good option. Instead of making Nat worry, though, he opts for the facepalm instead. 

_ He took a pretty nasty stab wound to the shoulder that was NOT my fault,  _ Nat signs,  _ and I'm too shaky right now.  _ She holds up her hands, and she's right, the tremors in her hands are not great. That's a telltale sign that she's stressed and tired. The surprise attack might have startled her more than she's willing to let on. Clint, on the other hand, has steady hands all the time, and that means he gets stuck with 3 am stitch duty. 

Clint sighs and rubs the back of his head, eventually motioning towards the bathroom. He goes towards their overnight bag to grab the antiseptic and sewing supplies, knowing that neither of them is going to be very happy about this. Nat relays the information towards the Soldier, and he nods, going to sit on the edge of the bathtub. 

When Clint gets there, supplies in hand, the Soldier has already taken his shirt off and is sitting with his back facing Clint. The stab wound is on the side of the scarring from where his arm was replaced, and Clint takes a second to marvel at the extensive damage that side of him has seen. The stab wound is a little thing, compared to the mass of scar tissue connecting the arm to his shoulder socket, but Clint does recognize that if it's not taken care of it could get nasty. He taps the Soldier's shoulder and holds out the antiseptic and cotton ball, so the Soldier won't be alarmed when he feels the sting. The Soldier nods, and Clint gets to work. 

It's silent, and most definitely awkward. Clint doesn't know if the Soldier makes any sort of noise, and it's not like he has Nat there to translate for him. He certainly winces a few times, but Clint expects that and adjusts his hand accordingly. 

By the time he's all sewn up, it's nearly 4 in the morning, and Clint feels like a tree log. He's certainly going to sleep like one, if his body has anything to say about it. He can't wait for tomorrow, when he gets his aids back, and they leave this weirdo on the curbside to go take down another Hydra base. 

Until he sees the bed. 

He forgot there was only one bed. 

The floor is definitely a no go and he'd expect anyone who slept there to wake up with lice, and the only other piece of furniture in the room is the little TV stand.

Clint freezes, but the Soldier doesn't even bat an eye as he goes to lie down on one side of the bed, ramrod straight like a torpedo. Nat gives him a look that clearly says "get over it you little pansy, it's only one night" but Clint still feels an uncomfortable churning in his gut which he translates into a raised eyebrow. Nat narrows her eyes at him, and he feels his will to fight give way to his need to sleep. But Nat is definitely going in the middle, because clearly she knows this guy and Clint's not usually one to sleep with strangers, but he  _ definitely  _ isn't one to sleep with homicidal assassins that tried to kill him not half an hour before. He scowls the whole time climbing into the bed. 

He does not dream of dogs again. 

When he wakes up, the other two are gone from the bed. Nat is outside at the car, which he can see through the window, and the Soldier is splashing his face with water in the bathroom sink. Nat comes in while he's watching the Soldier and throws a package on his chest. He sits up and tears it open quickly. He loves a good bout of silence once in a while, but God, a whole day has been absolute torture. But he's a grown up, and he won't complain. 

Even if when he turns the aids on and stuffs them in his ears, and nearly cries at the sounds of the birds chirping outside. 

"Oh thank God," is the first thing out of his mouth, and Nat looks at him with just a hint of pity. 

"He can hear now?" The voice comes from the bathroom, and Clint is definitely totally not just a  _ little  _ turned on at that morning rough voice. It's got a hint of Brooklyn, and even though this is the infamous Winter Soldier who has killed hundreds of people, Clint can't help but fall in love just a little bit right then and there. Such a dangerous man shouldn't be allowed to have such a beautiful voice. 

"I thought you were going to sound more Russian," Clint says instead, because of being able to voice his entire thought, Clint was lucky enough to be born with chronic foot-in-mouth disorder. The Soldier just raised an eyebrow at him instead, followed by "I was born in Brooklyn, you know." 

Clint doesn't really have a good response to that, so he just gives a thumbs up instead. 

Nat, bless her soul, clears her throat to drag their attention back to her. "So are we going now or what?" 

"Uh, what do you mean  _ we? _ " Clint asks, because seriously  _ why  _ is he left out of all the important stuff!?

"He's coming with us." Nat explains unhelpfully as she grabs their bag. 

"Uh yeah, I got that, but," He shoots the Soldier a look, "why?" 

Instead of being a reasonable person and remembering that Clint was left out of the conversation yesterday, the Soldier instead crosses his arms to look at him. "I'm helping you take down Hydra," he says with a tone that kind of implies that Clint should know this already. 

Well... it kind of makes sense. If the Soldier is intent on revenge or something like that, this would be the best place to start. It doesn't help the little part of his brain that insists he was lying about finding them on accident. 

Regardless of Clint's feelings on the matter, they all pile into the car anyway. The Soldier gets the front seat beside Nat, because Clint likes to stretch out in the back. He's a little bit torn about not sitting beside his best friend, but he'll take leaning over their shoulders to look at the map over that anyway. Nat already paid for the room, so they just had to drop the key in the mailbox outside, and soon they were on their way. 

Despite it being late enough into the morning that the sun was already a quarter ways into the sky, they'd only passed 12 cars in the past 2 hours. Clint could finally sing along to the radio, and though Nat was used to his off pitch warbling, the longer it went on, the darker the Soldier's expression got. It pleased Clint just a little bit, being able to get that kind of a reaction out of him where he wouldn't be able to rip Clint's head clean off his shoulders. He had his dark hair pulled back into a low, loose bun, and the other part of Clint that enjoyed signing directly into his ear also enjoyed looking at him. 

Man, if only Katey-Kate could see him now, on a very deadly road trip with one of his three best friends, and an ex Hydra assassin. 

But no, instead she stole his third best friend and fucked off to the west coast. We'll see how she feels when he replaces her with a Soldier they found along the way, because the darker his expression gets, the more Clint is intent on keeping this one. 

The next base they have on record isn't for another two days, so there's going to be plenty of this. Clint thinks he can sing to Madonna for hours on end right now. 

An hour later, when they stop for a break, the Soldier looks ready to murder someone, which frankly isn't nearly as scary without the eye shadow. Clint could eat a horse. Nat's probably hungry too, but she just looks amused by the whole thing. 

Clint goes in to use the rest stop bathroom, and when he comes out, he can't find Nat or the Soldier. Which is frankly a bit concerning, because they're not at the car, so he has no idea where they are. He calls out for Nat, which garners no response, and it's only then he realizes that he has nothing to call the soldier. It's not like he's going to yell out "The Winter Soldier" like he's looking for a lost puppy into this crowd of unsuspecting people. 

So he tries for Nat again, and finds her at the small Subway, which is kinda gross Nat, rest stop Subway's lettuce is  _ always  _ soggy. This means they still have the problem of finding the Soldier, but that can happen  _ after  _ he gets his soggy lettuce sandwich. 

They find him, and Clint finally takes the opportunity to ask him. 

"Hey, what should I call you?" 

The Soldier looks up at him over his take out container of steaming soup. "What?"

Clint rests his head in the palm of his hand, elbow on the table. "I mean, what should I call you? I mean I can't just call you the winter soldier out loud to get your attention, can I? Especially now that you've defected." 

The Soldier flinches a bit when he says his assassin name, but follows up with "You can call me Bucky, I guess." 

Clint is a little bit taken aback by it. It's like he said though, he was raised in Brooklyn, not backwater woods Siberia. But the hick-ness of it does throw Clint off a little bit. "Bucky. Ok, can-do."

They're back in the car, and for the most part it goes smoothly. Clint swallows a bug while singing along to Whitney Houston, but that's the most problem they encounter (Bucky laughs at him), and Clint forgot how much he loves road trips. Even if this is technically a super secret mission given by a super secret (asshole) boss. 

The motel this time is better, and it has two beds, and Clint thinks he's never been happier to see actual white sheets in his life. As soon as they unload their stuff from the car, Clint flops down onto it, facefull of pillow. 

"Bahhh..." He groans into it, "my legs hurt." 

"Yeah," Nat says, "That's because we drove 15 hours today. And we have 5 more to go tomorrow." Clint makes a face at the numbers, but says nothing more of it. 

  
  


"Ok, we're going to see how you two work together." Nat says, returning to the car parked on the side of a trail. The Hydra base was stupidly easy to find, disguised as a factory off the side of the highway. It had it's own really long driveway, for crying out loud. Like they were just  _ asking  _ people to come and blow it up. 

"As of today, there's maybe 300 employees." Nat pulls out the blueprints from her bag, which marks the interior of the building. Who even keeps blueprints on paper these days? Clint really has to commend those Hydra agents, they're making this job way too easy for them. 

"This one's fairly large," Nat continues, "And the main entrances are here, here, and here." She points at them, then moves to another section. "I'd take a look at this one, as it's mostly used by single employees, or people out on a smoke break to stand around." 

"There's also the loading docks here," she swings her hand around to point at them, "which are fairly easy to break into. After that," She pushes that one towards Clint to roll up, and pulls out the other set of blueprints, "This is the lower level. All the ones I've marked here," She gestures to the red marker circling a number of different parts on it, "are the support beams we have to take out." 

A facility this large, and it's only got 300 employees. "Seems a little understaffed, don't you think?" Clint asks. 

Nat's face scrunches up, "maybe, but we have been seeing a drop in their employment rates after the SHIELD disaster." She shrugs, "either way, it's better for us the less people we have to deal with."

"Oh, yeah," Clint agrees, "I'm not complaining, I'm just confused." 

"Well. We camp here tonight, and first thing tomorrow you two go in." 

Clint feels a nudge on his shoulder through his sleepy haze, and it takes a second, then third shake before he fully starts to wake up. He yawns, the force of it feels like his esophagus is going to climb out of his throat. It's Bucky, and Nat is already awake in the front seat watching the two of them. It's barely sunrise out, and this is the one thing Clint hates about being a secret agent. Why does everything happen at the crack of dawn? Why do things never happen at like, 3 in the afternoon? He stretches, and grabs his hearing aids from the case beside him and puts them in. He's still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes when Nat hands him his bow. He swings on his quiver and bow after it like it's part of his daily morning routine. 

Clint jumps out of the car and starts to follow behind Bucky, who's picking his way through the foliage towards the Hydra warehouse. Bucky has the bag of C4 this time, so Clint doesn't nearly forget it in the car this time. Clint shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to warm up his finger tips. Never good to have cold, stiff hands when you work with a bow, especially on something as important as this. It's a good 10 minutes until they start to see the trail of thin, white smoke coming from one of the factory's smokestacks. There's already people bustling about, armored cars coming in and out. They stop just before the edge of the tree line ends, and crouch down to watch the flow of people. 

"So how does this usually go for you?" Bucky asks. 

Clint's not exactly surprised by the question, he's more surprised that Bucky would bother to talk to him at all. It's not like he's initiated a conversation before this. 

"Uh... Go in, sneak around, destroy their cars, set the charges for like 5 minutes, haul ass back to the car." 

"Hm," Bucky follows up with, and that's the end of it.  _ There's  _ the quiet he's used to from the other man. 

They move in, and start to follow the pattern of the agents, moving around the cars and jabbing a knife into the majority of the tires in their vehicles, and unplugging various bits underneath hoods that they cracked open. Once they hit all the cars, thankfully without being detected, they follow the rotation back to the side door and slip in like Nat had told them yesterday. It was a good choice, and no one's out on break right now, not this early. It leads them into a maintenance tunnel off of the main one, which is still abandoned. They have to find a staircase, but that proves to not be a problem either. Whoever the Hydra people took this building from originally, they clearly kept up on their fire safety protocols. 

The basement proves to be another issue. The tiny window in the staircase door shows them just how daunting their task is this time around. Getting in was the easy part. Getting out will also probably be easy, but exhausting. It's the middle part, the stealth part, that has Clint's stomach in a knot. 

They're very lucky the door doesn't squeak. They duck down behind boxes that line the hallway into the main room, waiting for the perfect opportunity to dart towards one of the support pillars on their target list. 

Bucky jumps forward, springing towards a pile of boxes next to the first one, and Clint nearly misses his opportunity following him. That was a risky one, Clint would have waited until they had a more secure opening, but it paid off. Bucky sets the first charge for 10 minutes, and hands another one to Clint. He's only given them 5 minutes to place all the charges without getting caught. Clint scowls at him, but Bucky doesn't see it, too focused on his path towards the next target. So Clint rolls his eyes and heads towards the next one. 

5 minutes was probably fine, actually, because hitting that many targets with just one person would prove to be a challenge, but with the two of them combined they get it done in half the time. As Clint sets his last charge for the 5 minutes they need to escape, watching the others tick down silently, he sees Bucky across the room eyeing the hallway that they came from. So Clint follows his lead, moving back towards the way they came. The door is still unlocked, which wouldn't have been a problem, but is always a win in Clint's book. He hasn't even had to use his bow yet, so this is going spectacularly. The hallway on the upper level is still empty, and Clint thinks a mission hasn't gone this smoothly in years. 

But then Bucky makes the mistake of opening the break door. 3 Hydra agents with their masks off and cigarettes in their mouth turn to stare at the two of them. The 5 of them just pause, watching each other for a second, then a minute, and it kind of feels like Clint got himself dropped into the comedy genre for a minute. 

Then the agents move for their walkie-talkies, yelling "INTRUDERS!" and  _ that's  _ when Clint has to use his bow. 

The first arrow goes through the caller's throat with a gross squelching sound, and he pulls it out to jab into another employee's neck. Bucky has already taken care of his agent, snapped his neck and now the body is laying in an unnatural position on the ground. Clint looks at Bucky, eyebrow raised. 

"Gross." 

Bucky gives him the same eyebrow raise, but more judging than Clint's was, looking down at the stab wounds in the Hydra agents necks. 

"Anyway," Clint says, slinging his bow over his shoulder. "Now is where we run."

And with that, the two took off at a breakneck pace amidst bullet fire and  _ holy fuck _ , is that a-

"ROCKET LAUNCHER!" He yells at Bucky, trying to get the ex-assassin to dodge the incoming missile attack, but instead he runs  _ towards  _ the guy holding the weapon. Clint shakes his head. Good luck getting yourself killed out there, buddy. Shame, too pretty to die like this. 

It's only when he glances back to see Bucky has, in fact, taken control of the rocket launcher and is aiming towards the building that he has the unfortunate timing of getting clotheslined by a Hydra agent. Because of course he did, and of course this is how his day is going. It was going so well up until that point. His only saving grace is that no one else saw it happen, and anyone who did was going to be dead in the next 30 seconds or so. 

He takes down the agent that knocked him flat with the knife hidden in his boot. A swift jab under the helmet strap was all that was needed. An explosion sends an armored car careening behind them in the background, and he actually hears Bucky whoop!

There's a break in the soldiers out towards the clearing, so Clint takes that opportunity to book it. Bucky isn't far behind, thankfully, abandoning the now empty rocket launcher in favour of throwing it at another guy. 

"Nat will be waiting" he calls over his shoulder, just to remind Bucky on their escape plan. They're so close to getting out mostly unscathed (Clint might have a few scrapes, but nothing horrible, thank god). He can see the red convertible through the trees, engine revving, and Nat behind the wheel, raring to go. He turns to shoot one last arrow at the lone soldier who'd been brave enough to follow them through the thicket, and he drops dead as an arrow lands in his jugular. What Clint does for work isn't pretty, but it is necessary, he reminds himself. He leaps into the back seat of the car, Bucky a split second behind him, and suddenly Nat is tearing down the dirt path that they pulled up on. They're not quite as far as they anticipated, so the explosion racks through his body, a wave of wind and heat that smushes his face into the back of the headrest in front of him. Bucky, frustratingly, managed to keep his balance, having only his hair fly in his face a little bit. They were right, when they said people who don't look at explosions are cool. Bucky looks frustratingly badass. 

They're tearing down the highway, not a Hydra soldier in sight, and Clint can finally let out a breath. His shoulders slouch down and he feels himself go a bit boneless. The fights all begin to merge, after this many years, but his body's adrenaline response never gets old. Bucky hesitantly gives him a thumbs up as Clint slides down the seat, and Clint, tiredly, gives one in return. 

"Where are we headed to next?

Bucky leans over the back of the front seat to stick his head next to Nat's. 

"North of here, about a day's drive. We'll take this highway and merge a bit further up." She responds, and even though Clint doesn't know which highway she's talking about, Bucky obviously does, when he nods and relaxes in his seat. Or he doesn't know, and he's really good at faking it. 

Clint lets himself drift off to sleep, since there's not really that much to do. His phone is still dead, because like a dumbass he forgot to charge it last night, and he's too tired to actively sing with whatever's on the radio at the moment. A sliver of him is still wary that the actual real live Winter Soldier is next to him, picking debris out of the ridges in his metal arm, but Nat's there, and she'll protect him (or hopefully at least wake him up) if anything happens. 

When he wakes, they're still on the road, but the sun is significantly lower in the sky- 5 pm if he had to guess. The clock on the dashboard confirms it, staring green at 5:12. Cher is on softly on the radio, which is the first good wake-up call Clint has had in a long time. 

Nat is just pulling off the highway, into a dinky little tourist town. The sign went by a while ago, so Clint has no idea what this place is called, but it's probably something stupid. 

Glancing to his left lets him know that Bucky is also passed out beside him, head resting over top of where the window would be, mouth just a little bit open. Something stirs in Clint's stomach at the sight and he shuts  _ that  _ shit down immediately. There's no way he's going to even remotely consider catching feelings for the world's most famous ex-assassin. That would just be irresponsible of him. 

Nat notices him sitting up, glancing in the rear-view at him. "Feelings on dinner?" 

As if on cue, Clint's stomach rumbles. He hasn't technically eaten since before the mission, when they stopped for muffins. 

He just shrugs at her. 

Clint watches the gas stations and auto part shops roll by while they land on a place to eat. There's a nondescript family owned diner that looks good, with a motel just off to the side. Clint points at it, "that looks good."

So Nat steers into the parking lot, pulls into a space and shuts off the engine. She hops out of the car, not even bothering to open the door, and heads towards the restaurant. "Wake him up, will you?" She tosses back at him. 

Clint sticks his tongue out at her, but then looks at Bucky. He scoots closer, nudging Bucky's shoulder with his finger. That wakes the ex-assassin with a shout. 

"Hey!" Clint yells, as Bucky grabs his shoulders and pins him down against the back seat. The brunet reaches blindly for the gun in his belt, but he doesn't feel it. It's still tossed in the front seat. The wild look in his eyes is a clear indicator that he isn't where he thinks he is. 

"Woah, hey," Clint cautions, and sees Bucky start to come back to the present. "We're in Arizona, we're on the road, by a diner, Nat's inside waiting for us. You fell asleep, I tried to wake you up." 

Bucky pulls back, letting Clint sit up and rub his shoulder absentmindedly. Bucky pulls inward on himself, "sorry." He mutters. 

"No prob dude," internally cringing at that language, but whatever, "I get it. Trauma and all that. Let's just get some food."

He pointedly does not think about Bucky pinning him to the seat. 

When they hit the motel across the road later on, Nat and Clint go in to meet the receptionist. 

"Hello, you two looking for a room?" The lady asks. She's old, and has a bit of tremor in her voice and hands, but she seems sweet enough. Clint nods in response. "You're in luck, we have one left. That'll be 40 bucks for the night, please." 

Nat runs through the SHIELD card, as the lady tosses Clint a key. "Room 104." 

The No Vacancy sign flips on the board out by the road. 

Buck hops out of the car at the sight of Clint. 

"104," Clint volunteers, and Bucky grabs the bag of stuff from the front seat and heads to wait by the door. Clint turns the key and pushes open the door, flipping on the light as he walks in. He freezes in the doorway, causing Bucky to run into his back. 

"What?" Bucky asks, trying to look over Clint's shoulder. 

Clint just slumps his shoulders and sighs. He moves to the side, gesturing towards the inside so that Bucky could see it too. 

There was only one bed. 

Again. 

Well, at least there was no risk of bedbugs in this one (probably). Nat pops her head in beside Bucky, looks at the bed, and looks at Clint. 

Clint looks at her, and looks at the bed. The two of them lock eyes, and then at the same time, glance at the single large, blue striped armchair by the desk on the other side of the room. 

"Mine!" Nat yells, pushing past both of them, throwing her small duffel onto the chair. Clint, larger and slower, misses by half a second, his overnight bag landing on top of Nat's. 

"Ha!" Nat exclaims, "you and Bucky share the bed, I get the chair to myself." 

Bucky raises an eyebrow at her, "you just be lucky you're small enough to fit in the chair." 

Though the three of them could pretty much fall asleep anywhere after years in secret service, beds were in fact much more comfortable. 

The only problem Clint has with it, is the fact that he's sharing a bed with a very hot ex assassin. 

Clint looks at the bed, then looks at Bucky. He sighs, resigned to his fate, and goes to grab his bag off of the chair, and dump it on one side of the bed instead. 

Later, when the room had been swept and secured, everyone was clean and the lights were off, Clint stares up at the ceiling. He finds constellations in the popcorn pattern, trying desperately to think of anything other than the shirtless guy on the other side of the bed. His mouth is dry and his heart beats too fast in his chest. He wants to toss the covers off, but he doesn't want to disturb the quietness of the room, either. His eyes drift to Nat, curled up in the armchair, head resting against the curved top. He can tell she's asleep, the soft rise and fall of her chest more peaceful than when she was awake. 

He lets his mind wander back to the ceiling, trying to find the pattern of dots that looked like a dog. 

He doesn't find it again, but he does find one that looked like a baseball bat, when-- 

Clint freezes, his eyes snapping shut, trying to feign sleep. Bucky rolls over, and his metal arm brushes up against Clint's flesh one. On second thought, he should have put one of the extra pillows between them. Now his heart's going faster than the highway speed limit. 

Clint slows his breathing, coming down from a slight panic in realizing Bucky hadn't awoken from the contact. 

"Clint." The gruff voice says from beside him. 

Clint startles, his heart about ready to jump through his throat. "Jesus Christ!" He whisper-yells, trying not to wake Nat. He lets out a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. "Holy fuck, dude, you scared the bejeezus out of me! How did you know I was awake?" Clint says, turning to stare at the other man. 

Bucky's eyes flicker over, then back to Clint. "You forgot to take your hearing aids out." 

Clint's hands shoot up to his ears, realizing he did, in fact, forget to take them out like he usually does when he is going to sleep. "Ah, balls." 

It's quiet, for a second, and Clint thinks Bucky might have passed out again, when, 

"How did you join SHIELD?"

The question is quiet, barely more than a whisper and Clint has to strain to catch the whole thing. 

He lies, quiet, for a moment, preparing his answer. "I was in the circus." 

Apparently  _ that  _ gets Bucky's attention, and the brunet rolls over fully to face the blond. "What?" 

"Yeah, uh. I was in the circus. I was their trick shot, could shoot arrows with my feet through flaming hoops and stuff. Then the circus got into some shady business, smuggling people and exotic animals across borders, and the higher ups started getting investigated. SHIELD took notice, and they recruited me from there." 

"Hm." is the only reply he gets from Bucky. Another minute of contemplative silence, and Clint finds a rabbit on the ceiling, then- "do you think they'd take me?"

"Like as a recruit?" 

"Yeah, I think." Bucky says. "I kind of defected from Hydra, and I'm not really built for anything outside of a career in espionage. So right now it seems like SHIELD is my best option? But I'm also not sure how they'd take it, especially if it's me." 

"Well," Clint starts with. He thinks of Fury, and how he's willing to use anyone at his disposal to get the mission done, no matter their background. He thinks of Coulson looking after him and Nat, getting them back to a mission ready status. He thinks of all the kids who joined up as SHIELD recruits to get out of shitty home life situations. 

"I think they'd take you."

"Yeah?"

Clint rolls over again, to find Bucky looking at him, something impossibly young and broken in his eyes. He can't help but give a reassuring grin. "Yeah." 

Despite the weird feelings he gets, trying to sleep next to a very pretty ex assassin who tried to kill his friends not too long ago, he really does feel like Bucky will fit in at SHIELD. You don't end up in an organization like it with a perfectly normal childhood. 

It  _ does  _ mean that Bucky will have to face Steve again, eventually, and sooner rather than later. That's not a conversation he's prepared to bring up at- he glances at the clock on the bedside table- 2:14 am. Regardless, both of them know it's a conversation that will happen at some point. 

For now, though, through tomorrow and the weeks after that, Bucky can tag along blowing up Hydra bases and sharing shitty one bed motels, and that's fine with Clint. 


End file.
